


Moving Forward

by SignatureFarms



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Romance, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignatureFarms/pseuds/SignatureFarms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does the future hold for Jane now that Red John is dead? Enter a new challenge... Early chapters at a T rating. Future chapters rated M for sexual content and violence. Lisbon/Jane eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a writer. I have never written or submitted anything anywhere and I am sure it shows. However, the pull of The Mentalist is a strong one and some of the fun in my head does not wish to stay there so I am putting myself at your mercy by submitting the first chapter in what I have recently been watching in my mind. Please be gentle.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, have anything to do officially of any kind with The Mentalist. If I did, the show would probably go off the air. So be thankful.

**Lisbon POV**

He was trying to give off the impression that he was fine, that there was absolutely nothing on his mind that could possibly be troubling him. He breezed in with fresh doughnuts for the team. He flirted with Van Pelt, chatted with Cho and Rigsby about last night's Kings Game, and brought me a coffee before flopping onto his back on his couch. Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected. That's our Jane.

I knew all wasn't well in Janeland, though. The way he scrunched his eyes and wiggled down into the cushions. The way he furrowed his brow and shifted around trying to get settled. His sigh as he turned and faced the back of the couch with his arms crossed in front of him. He couldn't get comfy and finally rolled back over, getting up and wandering to the break room. He had his tells; someone who knew him as well as I did could see that he was bothered by something. Unfortunately, I had a strong feeling that I knew exactly what it was. He was trying to figure out how to tell me that he was leaving us. Leaving *me*.

I always knew that Jane was going to leave once Red John was finished. We would either take down Red John ourselves and send him to prison leaving Jane to ride off into the sunset. Or we would be too late; Jane would confront Red John alone and would end up being hauled off in either handcuffs or a body bag. I honestly couldn't picture any other outcome.

What actually ended up happening? I wouldn't have guessed if my life had depended on it...

We had received a tip about Red John, a pretty credible tip actually. Credible enough that we had to move out right away. Only problem was that Jane was nowhere to be found. Empty couch, no car in the lot, no tea brewing in the break room. He wasn't answering his cell, either. Damnit. I left him a message to call me back ASAP. Seriously Jane? You're going to miss this?

He had finally called back as we were almost to the location. I pulled over to give him clipped directions and let him know in no uncertain terms that we were not going to wait for him. Not for something this big. I hung up on him as he was still talking and pulled back onto the road. Cho just looked at me silently and then nodded. Good. Good... But why did I feel the slightest bit guilty? No, I shouldn't. Were Jane here this could go very bad very quickly. It was better if he showed up after the smoke cleared, after we had taken control of the situation. When he couldn't ruin everything just by being the vindictive stubborn ass that he is.

Turns out, it still went very bad, very fast, even without Jane's help. Red John _was_ there, and he had killed. Evening had fallen and the light was bad; it was hard to see what was going on As the electricity to the building was out. Rigsby wound up getting cut pretty badly. The same arm that had gotten burned, actually. If he wasn't careful he was going to end up losing it one of these days. Even with CBI agents surrounding him, Red John still managed to evade us. He had made it out of the warehouse and was trying to leave the scene when Jane came flying around the corner in his ugly little deathtrap. He hit him. With his car. On accident. Jane. Accidentally hit Red John. With his car. See kids, this is why you don't go jogging in dark clothes at night. When I ran up, Jane was sitting behind the wheel in shock. Cho ran to check Red John while I went to the driver's side door to check on Jane.

"I hit someone... Lisbon... I think I hit someone... He was just there..." He was pale, eyes wide. He had momentarily forgotten why he was rushing there in the first place. Horror that he had run someone down, had maybe hit one of us, had moved to the front. I glanced over at Cho, wondering about Red John. He stood up and shook his head. Dead. Jane looked at me horrified as I clasped my hands to my mouth in a frantic gesture to muffle my sudden hysterical laughter. It was over. Red John was dead. Jane had killed him. With his car. On accident. The whole thing was horrifically hilarious to me all of a sudden. I looked into Jane's panicked eyes and blurted "You ran over Red John" before giving a laugh that sounded like a sob and then suddenly I was crying in relief. It was over.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If I owned or had any share in The Mentalist I would not be reduced to using a bandaid as a bookmark. No. It's not used.

**Jane POV**

It was preposterous. It was asinine. It was ludicrous. It was a letdown. It was... no, no. That pretty much summed it up. It was a letdown. A complete letdown. I had plans. We were going to sit down mano e mano and I was going to have words with him. That's right, _words_. _**Angry**_ words. Quite possibly violent words. By words I mean "physical altercations" and by violent I mean lethal. At least that was the main plan, but mice... men... and whatnot... whatever. And no, I was not delusional. I knew perfectly well that the chances of me getting my ass handed to me on a blood spattered platter were about the same (if not slightly less) as Lisbon reading me the riot act and introducing my nose to her fist. So the plan included some sort of restraining device. Like a chainsaw. Yes. Really. You can't tell me you'd face down a guy with a chainsaw and not show restraint. Please.

But... come on. My car, really? My poor car.

After I got Lisbon's message and had called her back I just sat there for about 30 seconds just smacking the steering wheel with my palm. I was not going to miss my chance! At least I had Lisbon. She had given me the address which I figured was more than she had really wanted to divulge considering she knew what my intentions were. I didn't even care that she had hung up on me, I was just pleased she had trusted me with the address.

As I drove I tried to figure out a way to get Red John alone when the place was going to be crawling with law enforcement. Would this work? Nah. This? Hell nah. And I knew that Lisbon was going to be keeping a special eye on me. Or she'll have Cho or Rigsby or even Van...

That's when I hit him. I didn't even know it was a him at first. I just saw a figure in black flash in front of my headlights. I didn't even have time to brake. Just the sickening crunch as my Citroën collided with the form in front of it and my body jerked against the seat belt. I finally smashed the brake pedal when my windshield fractured under the force of the body as it flew up and into it and then over the roof. My car, and my heart, stopped. Lisbon... She had been wearing black jeans and a black jacket. No no no... I had hit Lisbon... I couldn't breathe. Lisbon! Wait. There she was! Running towards me. Who did I hit? Cho? No, he was there too, maybe. I couldn't think; screw biofeedback. I was going to pass out.

Lisbon was suddenly there at my window, peering in, worry plastered all over her face. Worry for me? For the person I hit? Who had I hit? "I hit someone... Lisbon... I think I hit someone... He was just there..." Great. Only later I realized I sounded like William Shatner, but for now, I was paralyzed. It was all I could do to turn my head and look into her eyes. Lisbon had turned to check on something and when she turned back to me she looked... something wasn't right. She had brought her hands up to her mouth like she was trying to keep something in. Was she... laughing? She was _laughing_! What the hell, Lisbon. I'm sitting here horrified and you're laughing? And then she brought her hands down and told me "You ran over Red John" and then burst into tears.

No no no no no...

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally another chapter! I was going to work on this yesterday, but I didn't have time to get on the computer last night after work because I went on a turtle walk. Walking on the beach at night and observing a Loggerhead turtle lay her eggs. She was a big girl! We didn't get back till midnight, so no writing for me! Boo. Luckily, today was all rainy so I got to stay inside and peck at my keyboard!
> 
> I apologize for short chapters. I wanted each POV to be a chapter on it's own, and each little thing happening to be on it's own. I don't like shoving too much into one chapter. I'm lazy, but organized. A place for everything, and everything in it's place. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing concerning the Mentalist. I wish I did, but you know how it goes. However, I do borrow them often for rewrites in my head.

**Lisbon POV**

That was two months ago. Jane spent the first month just walking around in a daze. He most likely felt as confused as he looked. Actually, probably more so. He was so lost; the man had been planning the demise of his wife and daughter's killer only to have everything come to a not so stunning finale in the span of thirty seconds. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was going through. I didn't even want to guess. He was hurting so deeply and I wanted so badly to be able to take it all away.

I can pinpoint the exact moment when I realized I actually cared about what the consultant was going through, what he was feeling. When Jane first came into my life he was a broken, grieving widower who wanted us to share our official case files with him. After a time, he wormed himself into a job with the CBI and became a broken, grieving, pain in the pompous ass widower. Sure, he closed cases like nobody's business, but I was quite happy to pass him off on Rigsby or Cho rather than deal with his inflated ego myself. And then one day after a particularly trying case I saw him sitting on his couch trying to hide the fact that he'd been crying. When he saw me come out of my office (tired and pissed off and upset) he immediately got up from his couch, slipped on a smile, and sauntered over to where I was standing by Rigsby's desk.

"So, Lisbon"

I looked at him warily. "Yes Jane?"

"Don't look so worried, woman."

"I always worry when it concerns you"

He chuckled and tucked his hands into his pockets and smiled at me "I was just about to go make myself some tea and wondered if you'd like some". Really? Jane was offering to do something for someone else? He rocked back on his heels, watching. I smiled and shook my head.

"Sorry, Cho was picking me up some lunch on the way back from his" Right on cue, Cho wandered past and tossed a bag over his head toward Rigsby. The other bag he swung under his arm and flipped it expertly into my arms. Jane coughed into his hand "Cho off..."

I snorted and his smile widened into a grin. I found myself grinning back. Damn! That's infectious. I excused myself and sat in my office to eat, choosing a seat where I could watch the bullpen happenings. Jane had leaned over Rigsby's desk, propping himself up with two hands and raising himself up on his toes, watching the 12 inch sub quickly disappear. "That's... disgusting..." he murmured softly. "Didn't you already have lunch?" he asked the big agent.

"Yup."

"And yet you're still going."

"Yup."

Jane glanced up, saw me watching, and shot me another grin. It didn't quite reach his eyes and I knew he was still feeling whatever it was that had upset him before when I saw him on his couch. He raised his hand and wiggled his fingers at me so I raised my fork and wiggled it back. This time, his eyes crinkled with a realistic smile. He poked his head in my door and asked if I was sure he couldn't get me anything.

"I'm fine, Jane"

"You sure? You could borrow my Sudoku book if you need something to keep your mind off things. Oh, and there's a coloring book I saw downstairs if that's more to your liking. My Little Ponies. I don't have any crayons, but I think I saw some red and pink pens on Van Pelt's desk."

"Really, Jane?"

"Really. She might even have purple, too. I can ask"

"That's not what I... nevermind. I'm fine, Jane. Really."

"Mmmm, OK. You know where to find me if you change your mind." Hands back in his pockets as he strolled away and presumably up to his attic. I shoved some lettuce into my mouth and mumbled a "see ya" at his back.

I was a bit confused; he was being so nice and I couldn't find an ulterior motive. I took a bite and chewed slowly, thinking. And then it struck me. The man was trying to cheer me up. He was making an effort to try to do something for someone who was feeling depressed even though he himself was upset. He knew this case had gotten to me and had wanted to, in his own weird way, distract me so I'd stop dwelling on it. The man cared. Well, damn. Damn. Jane had turned into broken, grieving, pain in the pompous ass widower whom I now saw as a proper colleague and maybe, just maybe, a possible friend.

Jane had been trying to cheer me up, but who was trying to cheer Jane up?

Damn.

I sighed and put the rest of the salad on my desk. Climbing the stairs to the attic, I paused at the top and knocked gently before opening the door.

"Hey Jane? I think I could go for some My Little Ponies..."

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. I've been sneak writing on my iPod Touch during work hours and saving it to the Notes app. The same Notes app that decided to take the almost finished chapter I was writing and delete it in it's entirety. Really? Really, Notes? You had to go and do that? Screw you. So I paid for the Pages app and rewrote it on that.
> 
> So here you go, Chapter 4. It's not the original Chapter 4 but I hope it's just as good.
> 
> Disclaimer: If I had any stake in The Mentalist, my main method of transportation would not be a 14 year old Ford Taurus.

**Jane's POV**

I let them down. I let myself down. After everything they had been through, that he had put them through, I had ended up letting them down. They deserved far more than I had given them. He was supposed to have suffered; for every second of agony and horror he put my wife and daughter through he was supposed to have suffered tenfold. Suffered till I finally choose to end his life on my terms. Not been taken out in a relatively quick and painless method with a broken neck that my car had accidentally given him. It was wrong. It was wrong. Sickening. I was disgusted with myself. Once again I had failed them. Pathetic. I was this... miserable worthless pathetic excuse of a man. I had gotten my family killed, I had failed to protect them and I had failed to avenge their needless deaths.

I stayed up in my attic following "the incident", as I called it. I didn't want to deal with anyone or anything. I couldn't bear listening to inane chatter or even worse, congratulations. "Way to go, Jane!" or "You da man, Jane!" or even "I bet you must feel so great right now!" No, I do not feel great. No, I am not "da man". I am not any man. A man would've been able to protect his family. A man would've been able to enact revenge on his child's murderer. But I did neither. And no one could understand that. They think I should be happy. Happy!

Ok... I stand corrected. There is one person who maybe understands my feelings about this whole thing. Dear Lisbon. She knew somewhat of my plans. She knew enough to understand that I had wanted him to suffer. She knew enough to understand why. And she knew enough to know why I was still suffering even after I had killed him. She left me alone when she knew I couldn't stand another being in my presence, yet she knew when I couldn't bear being alone. She'd come up into the attic and being me tea or lunch that she'd make me eat and even if I weren't hungry I'd eat it anyway because I knew she was worried and despite feeling like shit I didn't want her to feel the same. She cared about me for some reason I couldn't fathom. God knows how many times I've failed her, too. Yet she kept coming back.

If I had to be honest with myself is have to admit that I had more than feelings for Lisbon. Which was wrong. So very wrong. She was my boss and I was the annoying pain in her ass. She cared, yes, but anything more than that? I'm pretty sure my past attitude and my thorn in her side behavior had put the kibosh on her ever feeling anything more than pleasant friendship. I was ok with that. I didn't want to do anything that would ruin our friendship. I needed her friendship in my life. I needed her in my life. Any time you start a new romantic relationship there's a period of awkwardness. Starting that relationship with a friend just doubles that. At least at first. I'm sure there's a point where all that evaporates and all that's left is the feeling of rightness. I'm pretty sure I've reached that with Lisbon. Just having her around feels right. I don't want to lose that. I can't lose that. I can't go back to awkwardness.

It was almost a month after "the incident" and I was up in my attic, laying on my mattress, hands folded behind my head and just staring at the ceiling. Lisbon had tapped gently on the door and peeked her head in.

"Hey Jane, can I come in?"

I nodded before realizing she might not see that slight movement. "Always, my dear"

I heard the door creek as she slipped into the room and closed it behind her. Soft footsteps announced her passage over to the mattress and it dipped as she sat down next to my side. She didn't speak at first, just sat there in silence for a few moments before nudging me with her hip. I didn't even need words. I just wiggled to the side and made room for her as she stretched out on her back beside me. She had her arms resting on her stomach and her head was propped up on my upper arm using it for a pillow. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. This. This is what I had meant by "rightness". This was right.

We lay like that for awhile, just us and the silence. I could do this forever... just... have her here with me. I didn't want the rightness to end. I wondered what she was thinking. Feeling. Was it awkwardness? Wrongness? (Please don't let it be wrongness) I knew she probably wasn't feeling the rightness that I was feeling but I was hoping that maybe, at least, it was an ok-ness. I could deal with ok. Ok was good. I liked good. Of course I loved better, but I liked good.

After a few moments she turned her head so that it was resting against the side of my chest under my arm. Ah, Lisbon... I breathed deeply again and sighed as her voice broke the silence, uncharacteristically soft. "Jane?"

"Yes, Lisbon?" She seemed nervous.

"Jane, I just... I wanted to tell you..." She was flustered. "I'm... I'm glad you didn't get to kill Red John the way you had wanted" I stiffened at her words and she moved one hand to rest on my chest. "I'm not going to say it's because of your family and that they wouldn't have wanted you to do that because I didn't know them I don't know what they would have wanted you to do. I'm saying it because in selfish. Because I knew I'd lose you no matter what the outcome." My heart stuttered slightly as her breath made a funny hitching noise. "Either you'd be arrested and spend the rest of your life behind bars, or you'd end up dead. Either way, I'd lose you. I'd no longer have you in my life. This life, or..." she hesitated "after."

I made a odd noise and turned my head toward her. "After?" I didn't mention what she had said about losing me because I didn't know what to say. She was worried about losing me? I was going to have to deal with that later. But "after"? What did she mean by "after"?

Lisbon propped herself up on her elbows and watched me. I stared back into her eyes and she flushed but didn't look away. I could see her lip turning inward as she nibbled at it in thought. The sudden thought of taking it between my own burst into my head and I had to push it away as she tried to explain herself.

"I know you don't believe in God or heaven, but I do. No no, just hear me out." she interrupted me as I started to question where she was going. "If you had done to Red John what you had planned... if you had purposely killed him that way..." she paused and furrowed her brow. "This was an accident. He's still dead by your hand, but it was an accident. An honest accident." she sighed. "Jane...  
you accomplished what you set out to do. Not the way you wanted, but you still did it. And you still..." more pausing. "I believe in heaven. I believe we go someplace after we're gone. But not if someone does what you had wanted to do. But you didn't. So now..." she sat up and rested her hand on my arm, gave it a squeeze. "Let's just say that I'm relieved that, even if you don't believe in it because I do, we have a chance at finding each other again. I get to see you again." Giving one last squeeze she stood up and turned to me again. "I'm glad, Jane. You... I care about you. I'm glad I'll see you there."

Without another word she turned and walked to the door, turning around once she reached it. She gave me a small smile before ducking her head and slipping out.

I moved my arms and ran my hand over my lower face. Lisbon... dear Lisbon... You have given me much to think about...

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have a signaturefarms livejournal I'll try to keep updated with silly/random things that happen in my life or are story related or post photos. I just started it so there's not much there.
> 
> Anyway, just had to rewrite this chapter since I hated the original. And since it took me so long to write the original, no wonder it took forever to update it. [Although the original was written while on hydrocodone and vicodin for when my back was out, so it was probably a bit more entertaining.] Yeesh. Stay with me, I'm not planning to abandon this! Although if life ever gets to much, I will consider handing it off to someone else who would love to continue it.
> 
> Although... reviews/follows do kind of jumpstart my mojo and give me the confidence to keep going! So thank you to all who will!
> 
> Disclaimer: If I had any part of The Mentalist, it would air maybe one or two episodes a month due to my procrastination.

**Lisbon's POV**

I wondered if i had scared Jane (or given him future ammunition against me) when I spoke with him about my beliefs of the afterlife and the desire to see him there. I knew that he was at the very least amused, but I wasn't sure what else. He hadn't spoken to me about it after we talked and I found myself somewhat relieved. Sometimes I really didn't want to deal with an introspective Jane, especially about something as serious to me as that was. I had revealed a lot to him that day and was someone afraid of his reaction. So far though, his only reaction was to do nothing. Or so I thought.

The next day found him laying in the couch in my office instead of his one in the bullpen or his mattress in the attic. I was looking at a file when I walked in and didn't even notice him until I got to my desk and looked up.

"Jane? Why are you here?" I inwardly winced; that was a setup line if I'd ever heard one. I dreaded where he might go with it and tried to rephrase things. "You have a perfectly good couch in the bullpen that you haven't used in awhile. I'm sure it misses you."

"It might" he agreed. "But I'm really not in the mood for company yet" I raised my eyebrows and gestured to myself in a 'hello?' type way as he continued. "But I ah, don't feel like being alone right now, either." He explained with a small shrug and an even smaller smile.

I felt my heart go out for him and watched him shifting on my couch. He looked so exhausted and so lost. Although... maybe not as lost as before? I didn't know, this was Jane we were talking about here. A fine Master of Manipulation. You only saw what he wanted you to see, emotion wise. Sure he was more open with us now than he had been (and don't get me wrong, for that I am extremely grateful) but he's been doing it for so long that I wondered if he even remembered how to shut the mask off and just be.

Without opening his eyes, Jane's face broke into a wide grin. "I know you're staring at me, Lisbon".

"What? No I'm not."

"Yes you are, my dear"

"I'm not! Besides, Jane, you have you eyes closed. You can't even see."

"But I know. The same way I know you're giving me that look. The one where you tilt your head to side and the corner of your mouth tightens up just the littlest bit"

Dammit... "Shut up, Jane!" He was still laughing even after my ballpoint bounced off his chest.

I really had my doubts about involving him on the latest case.

I had been hoping and praying for an interesting case to help take his mind off things. Maybe an intricate robbery that would make him work for the answers. But, crap. This? This was not good.

Jane hadn't come with us when the body was initially discovered as he was still holing up in his attic. Cho had knocked on the door and called out but we didn't pressure him. I'm glad we hadn't. A child had been found. A little girl. A little 9 year old girl. Shit. She had been found dumped on the side of the road. Autopsy showed she had been sexually assaulted, beaten, mutilated, and strangled. I'm not sure why she was strangled as the official cause of death was blunt force head trauma. Maybe the killer was making sure, I don't know. What I do know is that I was uneasy about involving Jane in the whole thing.

Especially now that another little body had turned up, same MO as the first.

I took the call while Jane was in the room. He had turned his head and was watching me as I sat on the edge of my desk and pinched the bridge of my nose, rubbing it. Shit. He shifted up on his side and propped himself up on one arm. I tried to say as little as I could on the phone, instead hoping a bunch of "Mmm hmmms" and "Yes, right away"s would suffice. While it satisfied the caller, Jane wasn't fooled. He cleared his throat to get my attention after I'd hung up. I glanced over and he tilted his chin up and down quickly, looking interested.

"New case?"

"I didn't think you were ready to come back yet"

"I've been thinking it over and it's preferable to laying her staring at your stain free ceiling."

"Ah, Jane... not really a new case, just..." I sighed. "It's going to be a rough. I don't think this is a good one for you to come back and start with."

"Oh?" he sat up and bounced up and down slightly like an excited child. "What kind, Lisbon? Gruesome homicide? Russian mafia? Jaywalkers?" His grin looked real, shit, he was really looking forward to getting back to this. I hated being the one to wipe that much missed smile from his face.

"Children, Jane. Someone is murdering children."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning** Chapter is rated M for descriptions of death and Trigger Warnings for rape.
> 
> A/N: This chapter is just to introduce a new character; the killer. He's not a good guy. Nope, no way. I already have a "killer" nickname for this guy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own nor have any stock in the Mentalist. If I did... let's not go there.

**Jane's POV**

I perused the first case file as we drove to the scene.

The first victim was Samantha Anne McKiln, Sammi to those who loved her. Sammi was, at the time of her death, nine and a half years young. Brown eyes and light brown hair tied into a braid. Her little body had been dumped at a rest stop off of I-5. The close proximity to the rest stop guaranteed a quick discovery. Because of that, her body was thankfully spared from most of the scavenging, keeping it to a minimum. Not that it would be any kind of consolation to Sammi's parents; their daughter was still dead.

She had been raped both anally and vaginally. No semen was found leading to the conclusion that a condom was used. It could've been because the rape had been carried out with a foreign object instead of a penis, but I didn't believe that to be the case. She had been strangled but the hyoid bone wasn't fractured. Strangulation wasn't the cause of death though. Her skull had been crushed by a blunt object. Why the overkill? My feeling was that this was his first strangulation and he was unsure so he crushed her skull just in case. I told Lisbon that he'd probably be more confident when he killed again and there would be no head trauma. She had shot me a sharp look, knowing I hadn't even heard any details about the second.

What horrified me the most (and don't get me wrong, this whole thing was horrific) was that he had used Sammi's body as a macabre canvas. Flowers were carved into her torso; roses, tulips, and daisies intricately detailed and crafted in flesh. Stems with leaves or thorns trailed down her thighs and encircled her legs ending at the tops of her feet. Ivy twisted in bloody coils around her arms. It was haunting and disturbingly beautiful in a nightmarish sort of way. It would've been something to admire if it hadn't been done to the body of a nine year old murder victim.

The dumping site wasn't where she had been killed. There was no DNA on her body. No witnesses to the dump. No evidence of any kind. Nothing. I hadn't been there when they went to the crime scene for Sammi. I had been locked up away in my attic, hiding from the world. At first I berated myself thinking that if I had been there I was sure to have seen something they missed. After, I realized it wouldn't have made a difference.

Annalise Roberts was a blue eyed eight year old with long, straight blond hair. It was still held back from her face with a green headband when they discovered her body. I had been right, her head remained unscathed. Not so much the rest of her. Like Sammi, Annalise had been raped and strangled, her body dumped near yet another rest stop. He had also decorated her body much the same way as he had done Sammi's. It was worse in person as opposed to in crime scene photographs. So much worse. Her eyes were open, staring at a sky she would never again see. She was found two weeks after Sammi.

I thrust my hands deep into my pockets and clenched them tightly as I breathed heavy through my nose. I kept my jaw clamped shut as I struggled to keep my composure. Lisbon was standing off to the side talking quietly with one of the local law enforcement officers on the scene. As I watched, they both lifted their heads skyward and scowled. A second later I too looked up when the sound of chopper cut through the air. I shot a quick look towards Annalise's body and sent a silent thank you to the officers who had covered her with a blue tarp to protect her from the prying eyes of the vultures in the skies. The news station helicopters circling kept reminding me of sharks and the crime scene as their chum. Actually, that was a pretty much exactly what it was. Sickening. They were going to have a field day with this one. Two killings, same MO, same spectacular display. Not good. I waited till I got Lisbon's attention and then motioned her over with a head tilt. She said a few more words to the officer she was talking to and headed over to me.

"Yeah, Jane?"

I motioned to the helicopters. "They're going to be paying close attention to us now. Every rest area from here to Oregon will be under scrutiny. They're going to want to discover the next dump before we do. Better footage" I grimaced.

Lisbon's face mirrored mine. "He'll be looking for new places now that these have been compromised" she swept her arm towards the rest area and sighed.

"It's still going to go for another semi-populated area, Lisbon. He's proud of his... artwork..." The word tasted slimy to me. "He wants us to see it. To leave her in an abandoned place would guarantee that either scavengers or decomp would destroy what he did. No, he left them where they would be found quickly but not right away. Lots of people come through these places and don't stay, just a quick visit to use the facilities and leave. It would've been easy for him. He's going to look for a similar type place for next time."

She closed her eyes and rubbed her face before giving me a sad look. "What about you, Jane? You OK? Is all of this... are you OK?"

"I will be, Lisbon. Once we catch this guy, I will be"

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have no excuses other than that I'm at a point in the story where it gets frustrating for me to write. As I've stated at the beginning of the story I'm not a writer. When it comes down to the nitty gritty I have trouble putting it all together. I know what happens next. I know where it going. I know how it will end. It's just taking all that and putting it into sentences, into a story, where I fall short. I guess this is where a beta reader or co-author would come in handy, hmm? Too bad I'm too selfish to want to share my mind works with others. Oh, the tales we could tell!
> 
> I wish so much that this was easier for me. It would better for not only myself, but all of my followers as well since you wouldn't have to wait for updates. I'm jealous of those it comes easy for. And I will apologize over and over again for my slow writing. This is not something that comes naturally so I have to work hard at it.
> 
> Please please forgive me and be patient. Otherwise I'm going to end up posting crap ad no one wants that. (Oh please let it not already be crap...)
> 
> Disclaimer: Aren't you glad I don't own any part of The Mentalist? You'd never see new episodes but once a month.

**Lisbon's POV**

The press was having a field day with this one. They loved the gruesome stuff; the gorier the better. How did the lyrics to that song go? "She can tell you 'bout the plane crash with a gleam in her eye?"* Yeah. That one. That was this. Sure they were pretending to be horrified on air but behind the scenes you just know those assholes were high-fiving each other like they'd just hit the jackpot. Although come to think of it, they had. It had only been four months since Red John's death yet they already had The Florist to focus their attentions on.

The Florist? Really? I mean... Fuck... Really? The Florist? Where do they come up with these? Does the entire newsroom get together in one place and toss out names until someone says "That one right there! That's a catchy one!" Yes, because every serial killer needs a fancy moniker. The Boston Strangler. BTK. Red John. The Night Stalker. The Florist. Even the innocence of the name made it horrific.

Three more victims had been found bringing the total up to five. Jamie Spencer, Dora Marie Jameson, and Kathryn Diana Marshall, all aged nine. Jane had been correct in that the killer had abandoned the rest stops in favor of areas that were under a bit less observation. Jamie was dropped near a dumpster that was left next to the new department store extension going up at a mall. After that, all press surveillance was rerouted to malls and other shopping centers whether or not there was any construction going on. No one ever said the media was smart... Dora was left behind a grocery store that was being remodeled. Kathryn was found near a new office complex being constructed. No one at either scene had noticed anything unusual; cars and trucks were going through those areas non-stop to get work completed on time. No one would be suspicious of someone dropping off what was supposedly construction materials. There were far too many projects going on to put surveillance on all of them so it was incredibly frustrating for us. The silver lining was that it was also frustrating for the media.

The victims had absolutely nothing in common other than being in the ninth years of their lives. Caucasian, African American, Hispanic. Blond, brown, black haired. Blue, brown, hazel eyes. Upper, middle, lower class. Divorced, married, widowed, same sex parents. There was no pattern other than their ages. No fucking pattern. He had to do some kind of background check to find out their ages; it couldn't be random. Or was it? We had absolutely no clue at that point. We were going through everything we could about the families to find out if they had anything, anything, in common. From teachers to Photography Studios to gym memberships. Anything.

VanPelt was not handling things as well as she could have been. When I walked in on Tuesday morning she was sitting at her desk and sniffling while Rigsby rubbed his hand in small circles on her back and made what he probably thought were comforting noises but sounded to me more like some of the sounds I've heard on Animal Planet. OK, I was being mean; this case was getting to me. I apologized to Rigsby in my head.

"I mean, who does that to anybody?" VanPelt was saying. "Especially children. Who would want to do that to children?" Her voice rose to a higher pitch at the last word and I inwardly winced as the sound poked cruelly at my headache. It was going to be one of those days. Rigsby kept his hand going between her shoulder blades as his right hand took her own in his as she continued in that annoying voice. "What kind of person can just look at a child and do that to them? Look at anyone and do that to them?"

"That's just it" Rigsby murmured. "He's not a person. You do something like that and you've immediately removed yourself from the human race."

She sniffed. "Some people would disagree."

"Are you one of those people?" At her hesitant shrug he replied "I'm not. There are clear lines and once you step over them you can't go back. Most people stay on the human side but then you have those that tread over into the animal side. What this guy is is one of those that smash the line and go completely over to monster."

I walked away as Cho entered the conversation and didn't hear the rest of what was said. What I did hear was VanPelt's voice rising up into the decibels that were only meant for dogs to hear and inwardly cursed at her. No, I'm being mean again; this case was getting to all of us. I sent out a mental apology to her as well. I had a feeling I was going to be doing a lot of that during this case, and if I couldn't control myself, saying them out loud, too. Fuck. Did I mention how this case was getting to me?

I glanced over and saw Jane "asleep" on his couch. I was about to head over to ask him about The Florist's next possible move when I realized that he was actually asleep, no air quotes needed. It's hard to explain but once you've gotten Jane's nuances down it was being real and honest verses him being, well, Jane. I wasn't about to disturb the man from a much needed rest just to speculate on what The Florist might or might not be doing next. Jane had been looking worse than usual lately and it had finally gotten to the point where I was seriously considering drugging his tea just so he could get some damn rest once in awhile and... Wait. I walked over to the couch and looked down at a sleeping Jane. His teacup was sitting on the table with about a half inch of tea left inside. I glanced over to the other side of the bullpen and saw Cho watching me. Looking back at Jane I lifted my leg and poked his shoulder with my knee. Nothing. I put my foot up on the cushion and jiggled it a little. Nothing. Well, not quite nothing. Jane frowned in his sleep and turned his head slightly to the right. I swung my gaze back to Cho and pointed to Jane, raising my eyebrows expectantly. He twitched the corner of his mouth and raised two fingers, giving me a salute.

Ah, no wonder I liked the man.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Lyric line from Dirty Laundry by Don Henley.


End file.
